


Elfed

by FrenchCaresse



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, Public Humiliation, Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchCaresse/pseuds/FrenchCaresse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to a prompt on how the elves feel like Jack's casual style is reflecting on the whole elf community. Because Jack is an elf, according to wiki, and he needs a uniform. No respectable elf goes around barefoot looking like a hobo. An elf ambush follows... Silly O/S. Humor. Crackfic. Jack Frost/Elves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elfed

**Author's Note:**

> Response to the following prompt :
> 
> Gen, "You need to have a uniform"  
> The elves that tried to give him shoes have a very specific idea of what being a Guardian entails: You HAVE to look iconic. And as Jack is a fellow elf, albeit a different breed but an elf nonetheless (According to the wiki), they figured they ought to make him presentable. No respectable elf goes around looking like a hobo!
> 
> By the time Jack returns to the pole for a visit, they have not only made him shoes, but an entire outfit.
> 
> So yeah, no warning apply, (hey! I've finally done a non-sexual piece!) except maybe: crazy one-shot and unbeta'd.
> 
> Are you afraid of the elves? Maybe you should be...
> 
> (Silly non-sexual Crackfic. Thanks for the amazing prompt!)

...

Jack had tried.

Seriously, he'd done his best. At least that's what he tried to believe to console himself.

He could have handled one. Or two. Or a dozen, or even twice that. Perhaps even fifty.  
It was the multitude that overpowered him in the end.

Jack had tried.

Really.

He'd done all he could think.

He'd been ambushed as soon as he set foot into North's Palace for the weekly Guardian meeting.

''You need to have a uniform. You are a disgrace to all elves!'' a tiny voice had squeaked.

He'd ignored it, hurrying to see the Big Man.

''You need to have a uniform. You are a disgrace to all elves!'' Ten tiny voices echoed the first.

Jack had glanced down, then smoothly rose to glide above the growing number of small bodies amassed around him.

''You need to have a uniform. You are a disgrace to all elves!''

There were now a couple dozen elves circling around Jack.

They obviously refused to be ignored, persistent fuckers, and their numbers magnified their annoyingly high-pitched sentence.

''You need to have a uniform. You are a disgrace to all elves!''

Jack had disagreed calmly.

Or tried to. The elves didn't listen at all, repeating like a broken record ''You need to have a uniform. You are a disgrace to all elves!'' after all his (valid) arguments.

It was quite worrying. As far as he looked in the vast warehouse, Jack could see glints of green and red, ominous jingling as elves continued to appear and hurry to where he was now backed against the wall.

''You need to have a uniform. You are a disgrace to all elves!''

Jack had begun to argue less calmly.

He was clearly not getting through their thick curly-haired skulls, and he was starting to feel a bit intimidated.

The light was dim, and the shifting shadows of hundreds of elves flickered menacingly along the floors, distorting into jagged freaky shapes. Beady eyes glittered wherever he looked, and pointy hats weaved and regrouped in menacing clusters.

''You need to have a uniform. You are a disgrace to all elves!''

The chant continued through it all. It had grown to an ominous rumble now; a battle cry, a hypnotizing mantra.

Of all the ridiculous ideas…

Jack highly resented the whole concept. He, for one, didn't feel remotely related to the tiny stupid jangly swarm that was clustered around his ankles.

It wasn't his fault if wiki had declared he was a winter elf. Besides, his clothes were just fine. His hoodie was soft and comfy and Jack fervently hated shoes.

He tried to explain it all, to no avail.

Then he'd tried yelling. He would have stamped his foot too, but he was afraid to squash one of the damn things.

The mass was tightening, all space between elves slowly reduced. Elbow to elbow, one squirming throng of elf-brothers.

''You need to have a uniform. You are a disgrace to all elves!''

The multitude parted, it seemed, and Jack saw a procession of sorts approaching. When he saw what they carried, he protested even more.

''You need to have a uniform. You are a disgrace to all elves!''

Jack even tried pouting, which always worked to mollify Santa. It was completely ineffective on the elves, who simply continued their litany. Insensitive evil beasts.

When the parcels reached the front, the silence was so sudden it made Jack's heart leap and race.  
It was a stand-off. No way was Jack going to put those garments on, whatever they were. He could see bits of satiny green and a clump of white fur and some gold-thread embroidery.

No.

Just. No.

Jack clung to his staff, panicked breath loud in the eerie quiet.

A muscle in his thigh quivered, and Jack stared at the amassed elves.

Their little faces were hard, determined.

For the first time in his life, Jack considered *kicking* a Christmas elf.

But it wasn't something you did. Even when times were desperate. Even if the elves where intent on humiliating you to death. You didn't kick a Christmas elf. It was… just… sacrilegious.

And then it was too late; suddenly, from his right, Jack heard a high-pitched ''EEEEE-yyyyaaaaa!''  
He spun around barely in time to see a blur of pastel green and pink fly through the air towards his face.

And then the world exploded into confusion. Millions, or so it seemed, of elves launched themselves at him.

Jack sank to the ground, unbalanced as his left foot was yanked from under him.

The Winter Guardian was buried under the swarming elves, now grimly silent. His staff disappeared. Jack struggled uselessly, and vaguely realized two large candy canes were being used to hold his legs to the ground. As he tried to roll over, blue and lime-green ribbons twined around his arms.

(Apparently, blue and lime-green were the new ''In'' colors for Christmas decorating that year. Which Jack hardly cared about, since he didn't own a house and so didn't color-coordinate. Decorating was so gay. It was just because he never slept that Jack watched the Home Channel so often. He just happened to remember that blue and lime-green were hot that year. He wasn't the least bit interested in decorating. Nope.)

Anyway, Jack soon found himself pinned flat on his back, spread-eagled.

He took a deep breath to really scream, and a giant log of fruitcake was shoved into his mouth.

He stopped struggling then, aware of dozens of determined hands that tore his clothing away. He shuddered at the slinky feel of tights being pulled up his pale legs. He seriously hoped the things weren't striped. He might cry if he was forced to wear tights. Seriously.

He yelped when *something* poked much too close to his left nut- THAT was not an accident, for sure.

Jack closed his eyes and simply bore his torment like a martyr after that.

Eternity passed and all movement ceased again.

Jack opened his eyes and squinted to find the Easter elf perched on his chest. Of course, it made sense that the perturbed creature would be the mastermind behind the conspiracy. And that he was a ninja-master-pastel-elf. He still carried dark thoughts of revenge on Jack, whom he blamed for his unfortunate appearance.

'You needed to have uniform. We will not let you disgrace all elves!'' The final proclamation was triumphant, echoing in the large room.

Then, as if powered by one mind (and maybe they were, could elves be telepaths? Or like a swarm of bees, led by one great queen?) all the elves leaped back and in less than a minute, the corridor was empty except for two candy canes and a jumbled mess of ribbon. Highly fashionable now-squashed blue and lime-green ribbon.

The fallen Guardian slowly pushed himself to his feet, spitting out dense fruit cake. (Really, why would humans eat the things? Jack *knew* they had originally been created to throw at recalcitrant Yeti heads when they first began to work for Santa.)

A quick survey of himself showed the extent of the damage. Of his old clothes, not a shred was to be seen.

Jack rapidly pushed the pointy hat with its white fur trim off his forehead, and shook his hair out.

He was wearing a green tunic that ended just below his butt in pointed scallops.

Around his neck, oh horror, was a collar of red triangles, thick with gold thread. When he moved, the bells sewn onto the points flew around and thudded into his chest. Hard.  
But the worse bit was below.

Jack moaned.

He'd been right about the tights; they were striped all right. One leg was striped red and white, the other white and green. And even worse… they *glittered*.

Jack tried to take a step towards his staff that had rolled into a nearby doorway.

And surprisingly, fell flat on his face.

What the…

Fucking hell! Jack had tripped over his feet. Or rather, over the long pointed bell-adorned upturned toe of his new green felt slippers!

As he pushed himself back to his feet, Jack heard a commotion of voices and footsteps rapidly approaching behind him. He was still dazed and had no time to react before he was suddenly face to face with the rest of the Guardians!

Predictably, Santa's booming laugh echoed first, and his whole belly jiggled.

Jack narrowed his eyes.

It was absolutely unnecessary for Sand to fall over onto his back and kick his feet in silent glee.  
Remnants of pride and frustration solidified in Jack and he straightened his spine defiantly.

''What?'' He spat out when they seemed to calm.

Santa wiped the tears from his eyes, and Sand dozed on the ground, worn out from laughing too hard. Bunnymund was strangely silent, leaning against the wall and appraising Jack in a way that was rather disturbing. The gleam in his eye as he slowly looked Jack up and down...

Jack stared his fellow Guardians down until it became obvious no-one was going to say anything.

Jack turned around then, and ignored all the Baby-Tooths that fell to the ground when he bent over to grab the hat. Tooth was suddenly by his side, hovering excitedly and chattering about how amazing his ass looked in the tights and who had done the belt and did they do them in other colors and what about a bit of lace and numerous other things Jack ignored with a huff.

Jack instead set out determinedly for Santa's office to get the fucking meeting over.

His long stride (he didn't dare run or float with the shoes that already pinched his toes) soon outpaced the rest.

He stormed on, lost in introspective murderous musings on how to get back at *his family* (Jack snickered at the thought), when bounding fur leaped to catch up with him.

''Hey.'' Bunnymund hissed.

Jack pretended he didn't hear.

''Jack!'' Bunny's whisper wasn't so whispery anymore. Before he shouted whatever he needed to say for all the others to hear, Jack spun around and confronted him.

''What?''

Bunny held up large paws in defense, trying to calm Jack down.

''Dude!'' Bunny continued. ''You've been elfed!''

Jack stared incredulously at the gangly Guardian for a minute, wishing he could just freeze the whole damn palace and be done with it.

''Ha-ha.'' He responded finally, dripping ice. ''Ha-fucking-Ha!''

Jack resumed walking fast towards the office, but Bunny kept up easily.

''What do you want?'' Jack asked, infuriated, a hallway or two further.

''Just wanted to add…'' Bunnymund drawled ''I really like tights.''

Then he winked, a lusty disgusting look that seemed to size Jack's package up through the tight  
tights.

Because of course, tights were tight. Otherwise, they wouldn't be called tights.

And because they were tight tights, they really didn't leave much to the imagination, as Bunnymund had noticed.

Jack glared at him incredulously.

Bunny's furry nose crinkled as he leaned forward and whispered in Jack's ear: ''If you need help getting them off…''

Then he licked his whispers.

Which was just… ew.

Jack could find no reply strong enough to voice all the violent emotions running through him.

After a stunned silence, he whirled and stalked on, angrily pounding the ground to put some distance between himself and the perv.

Bunny let him, and Jack was sure he could feel the horny stare burning his bubble butt as it contracted with every step.

He put more force into his stomping.

Stomping was good.

Stomping was angry.

Stomping was aggressive.

...

It was just too fucking bad he *jangled* when he stomped.

...

Fucking hell.

Jack had been elfed.

...

**Author's Note:**

> Well... I can't really find the right words to explain this silliness. I blame the easter-elf!
> 
> Love ya!
> 
> xxx
> 
> French Caresse


End file.
